I'm a WHAT!
by miss-innocence
Summary: Ron and Hermione haven't seen each other in sixteen years ... and she has a surprise or two for him. Clearly A/U. Reviews are love.
1. Surprise?

Disclaimer: It's all JKR's.

It was a cold night, and pelting rain was incessantly battering the man's face. Ron Weasley was out on patrol through Knockturn Alley. Although there was no longer the threat of Voldemort, there would always be trouble, and as an Auror it was his job to stop trouble in its tracks. Since he did not have much to do back at the Ministry, he had decided to patrol for a while, despite the abysmal weather.

A young girl was struggling against the wind, dragging a small suitcase behind her. "Excuse me!" Ron yelled, although his words were lost to the wind. She stopped and he squinted at her. "Do you need some help?"

She motioned for him to step inside the bar they were in front of. As they stood, dripping inside the dimly lit tavern, Ron took in her appearance. She looked to be fifteen, maybe sixteen or seventeen at the most, with warm brown eyes, delicate features and hair that was dyed a multitude of colours. She was petite, but curvy, and wandering this area at night, alone, she was bound to run into trouble.

"Where are you headed?" he asked. "This isn't the kind of place young girls your age should wander alone at night."

"I'm running away," she sniffed indignantly. "I was headed for _Diagon _Alley, but with this rain it was hard to see and I must have taken a wrong turn."

They had taken a table, and Ron was attempting to ignore all the illegal activities that were going on around him. "Why would you want to run away?"

"My mum, and my brother. I've got a twin brother and he's bloody _perfect_. He's top in his class at Hogwarts and he's the star Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. So my mum is always fawning over him, 'Gregory is such a good influence, why don't you take after him Clara?' Ugh. I hate it, him, and her." After a pause she continued. "Why am I telling you this? For all I know you could be a serial rapist who's going to take me off and... oh I'm sorry, that's such a rude thing to say."

Ron smiled, this girl was just like every other socially awkward teenager. "No worries, I don't pose any threat, I'm an Auror. So where are you planning to run away to?"

She smiled hopefully. "I've got a modelling offer with Tag Henderson in New Zealand. I'm going to be a world-famous fashion model!"

He gasped. "_The_ Tag Henderson? Of ModellInc?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

"Not personally, but we've been trying to hunt him down for nearly a year. He's been raping and killing young witches like yourself, six or so. He's lured them to whatever foreign country under the false pretence that he runs a modelling company, ModellInc."

"What? I don't believe you!" The indignant look on Clara's face shocked him. Being six feet four inches tall, Ron look very intimidating and usually had no trouble convincing people of anything.

"Do you want me to show you the file? It's against Ministry policy, but I really could care less right now." After a short wave of his wand, the Tag Henderson file had appeared. Inside the manila folder were pictures of six beautiful teenage girls, all of them with the unmistakably bluish-gray skin of the dead.

Clara gasped and the way she brought her hand to her mouth and sucked in breath reminded Ron oddly of someone. "I...I could have been in there," she whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

After a few more seconds, to really let the gravity of what the pretty young girl had almost gotten herself into Ron offered to take her home. She gladly accepted and within moments they were Flooing to her house. Coughing and soot-covered, the odd couple entered a small, but blissfully warm living room.

"Mum?" Clara called tentatively, her eyes darting around the room, as if expecting her mother to leap out from behind a chair, or one of the many bookshelves.

Within milliseconds, a petite young woman burst into the room. Her sizable brown hair had been pushed into a bun and she was dressed in a business outfit. "Clara! I am... beyond angry with you! I cannot believe you would do such a brainless, selfish, risky thing!" She turned her attention to Ron, who was attempting to make a quiet escape. "And you, thank you so much for returning my – _Ron_?"

As he turned and took a better look at the woman, Ron realized exactly who he was dealing with. "_Hermione_?"

Hermione turned a sick, pale colour. "Clara, go to your room," she muttered, shooting daggers at her ginger-haired guest. As her daughter trudged out of the room, she turned to Ron. "What in the blazes were you doing to Clara?" she demanded, gesturing for him to sit in a crimson armchair.

"I'm an Auror now Hermione, and I was patrolling Knockturn Alley when I found Clara on her way to Tag Henderson's modelling company."

Hermione gasped, and Ron knew why he had recognized Clara's action at the bar. Before she could speak, a teenaged boy shuffled into the room. He had a head full of unruly brown curls, and sapphire blue eyes. "Mum, Clara's up in her room and... oh sorry, I didn't know you had company," he mumbled awkwardly, ears turning bright red.

A scary thought passed through Ron's head, but he set that idea aside as soon as the boy left the room.

"I didn't know you had gotten married," he said cooly after a few awkward moments. She had promised that she would wait...

"I didn't," she replied in an equally frosty manner.

"But..." Ron dared not to say the inevitable.

"You're just as thick as you were in school. Ron, I'm sorry you have to find out like this, but there's no other way I can put it. Clara and Gregory are your kids."


	2. Hi Kids

Ron grasped onto an armchair to steady himself. "M-m-my _what_?"

"Your children, dear." Hermione looked him dead in the eye. "After we had that ... falling out, and I moved out of the Burrow, I learned I was pregnant. I know it was stupid, immature and selfish, but my pride got the best of me, and at that point I doubted you wanted any children..." She trailed off, knowing her excuses probably wouldn't get her anywhere. "Anyway, Clara and Gregory were born, I stayed with my parents for a few years until they retired, and I got two decent jobs to take care of us. Now, with two fifteen year-olds, here I am. And, here you are. Would you like to properly meet them? They've been asking about their father since they could speak."

Ron contemplated the idea of an irate Hermione mouthing off about a git who couldn't put down a piece of pie to bother telling her the time of day. He wasn't sure her children would give him a warm reception. Cautiously, he asked, "What exactly have you told them?"

"Well ... they know you and I went to Hogwarts together, and all about the Great Battle, and that we were best friends with Harry Potter ... um, they also know that you and I had a rather tumultuous relationship. They know you didn't know about them, so they stopped asking so much. But it is hard ... I can see you every day in both of them. Gregory! Clara! Come here please!" She called, and Ron studied her closely. Clearly the stress of raising two children alone had taken its toll on Hermione, and she had aged some, but had done it gracefully. Her hair was still a bit on the bushy side, not grey, and she had just a few fine worry lines in her forehead.

The twins entered, Clara still looking annoyed, and Gregory looking awkward, staring at the ground. Ron studied the twins he figured were his children closely. Gregory resembled his mother somewhat, with his hair, but his facial features were not as delicate as Hermione's and his eyes were most assuredly Weasley blue. He was tall and lanky, similar to Ron, and Ron recalled how his embarrassment had shown in the blazing tips of his ears earlier. Clara, on the other hand, had Hermione's almost entirely, her eyes, her nose, save for her full lips. While her hair was dyed several different shades, Ron observed a few freckles across her nose, and familiar ginger eyebrows. Certainly, if the twins were not his, they belonged to a close member of the Weasley family.

"Clara, Gregory, this is your father ... Ron Weasley," Hermione stated in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Um, hello sir," Gregory muttered, extending his right hand. Ron, not knowing what else to do at that point, took the hand and shook it in his own.

Clara simply stared, mouth agape. However, her eyes blazed with the same fury Ron had put up with in eight years of knowing Hermione. "You have _got_ to be joking," she sneered, rolling her eyes. "This man, the one who _stopped me from getting away_, is like, supposed to be my father and, like, do that? Oh Merlin. Seriously, could this night get any worse?"

Hermione looked as lost as Ron felt. How exactly does one explain a fifteen-year absence from his children's lives? The mother looked towards Ron, hoping that he would say something, anything, really. Ron cleared his throat, and gently took a seat in the plush armchair, while the three Grangers took a seat on the sofa across the room. "I'm very sorry. I didn't know about you, Gregory, and Clara. Had I known ... I would have been here all along. I'm so sorry. I just, I didn't know ..." He trailed off, quite unsure of what to say."

Hermione pasted a smile on her face. "Well, it's not too late now, is it? You all can get to know each other still. Come on, why don't you tell your father about yourselves? Gregory?"

Gregory finally managed to look his father in the eyes, a mirror image of his own. "Well Ron – father, sorry – I'm about to start my fourth year at Hogwarts, I play for the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a keeper. I do pretty well in school, and Mum says I'm like you, because I eat a lot. But I'm a growing boy, I'm just ... hungry."

"Clara?"

Clara rolled her eyes, again. "Well, I'm no Greg. I don't play Quidditch, and I don't get top marks. I don't aspire to be Head Girl. I'm in Gryffindor too. I don't eat a ton of food, and I just want to make it through the next few years until I can go off on my own. I don't know what I want to do with my life, I'd love to travel the world though, and I once dated Viktor Krum's son ... I don't know why Mum found that funny, but she did."

Hermione admonished her daughter. "Clara, if you don't stop rolling your eyes, they'll stick up there and no boy will date you ever again. Don't make me tell you one more time. So, Ron, these are your children, your teenagers by this point. Perhaps you'd like to tell them a little about yourself?"

"Well, I can see a lot of myself in both of them ... like when Gregory's ears burned earlier, I was shocked. I'm the worst for that. And I played keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team as well. I still eat like a growing boy, so don't expect that to change once he's an adult, Hermione. And Clara, I was never the smartest, I relied a lot on your mother for her help in school, and I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. As an Auror, I get to travel all over Europe, and it's just brilliant, the beautiful places I've seen. I'll bet your mother never told you that she and Viktor Krum dated in our fourth year, the year I finally saw her as an actual girl, and he was a huge source of tension between us, in fact he used to be my favourite Quidditch player ... until the slimy git went for your moth –"

"Right, well, thank you Ron," Hermione interrupted, blushing slightly. "Clara, Gregory, I'm so sorry this was sprung on you so suddenly. I have to talk to Ron in private though; I think everyone is a little shocked. Why don't you two go on up to bed and I'll talk to you soon." The twins disappeared from the sitting room, leaving Hermione and her ex-boyfriend to stare each other down. Finally, Ron managed to find words.

"So, you were just never going to tell me that I had two children! I would have just gone through life, never knowing that I had two children! Two children who have grown up without a father, raised alone by a single mother! In fact, they have practically grown up! They're fifteen years old for Merlin's sake! Hermione, I can't believe you of all people would do something like this to me. I'm just so ... shocked, so hurt, and I feel just plain guilty."

"Well it's a two-way road Mr. Weasley. For just about sixteen years, I did not receive one letter from you, or even from Harry, who took your side when you cheated, when I was so _frigid_. Do you know why? I had morning sickness! I was pregnant then! I just didn't know it! So forgive me for not wanting to speak to you. In fact, perhaps you should go track down Pavarti and see if she's produced any of your spawn too. Do you know how hard I had it? I've been working myself to the bone to provide robes and books, to pay rent, to put food on our table! The past sixteen years have been the hardest of my life! I love my children dearly, but what I would have given for just a little help, a little concern from anyone! Instead I was ostracized, a young, single mother! Ron, you have no idea, I've been to hell and back thanks to you." Hermione paused to catch her breath, so worked up she was nearly in tears.

Ron was ready to scream right back at her, but paused. He knew he had done her wrong so many years ago, and there was, for the most part, just one side to this. However, hiding herself and her children from him for so long was far from the proper action to take. He knew she must have struggled, his own mother had it hard raising all of her brood, even with the help of a loving husband and father. Imagining Hermione, a mere nineteen years old, carrying around two young, squalling babies softened him a little. He felt guilty for putting her in that situation, because he knew she wouldn't come back after he had cheated on her. Still, he just could not get past the fact that she had denied him the right to see his own children.

"Hermione, it's not bloody fair! I understand you've had it rough these years, but still, I could have been there to help, even though I know seeing me is the last thing you want, I could have sent money, we could have shared custody ... there are a thousand things we could have done to have made this easier. And now, you've got hormonal teenagers up there not knowing what to think, how to react, they'll probably need years of therapy for all you know. This is just brilliant."

Hermione just sighed, the sigh of a woman who lost much of her spirit, who was weary. "Ron, I'm sorry, but I'm exhausted, it's been a long night and it's nearly midnight. I need to sleep on this, I'm sure you do as well. Why don't you come back tomorrow, we can all talk this over, you, me, Greg and Clara. We can come up with some kind of arrangement, whatever is best for them and what we can all come to an agreement upon. Okay?"

Ron agreed, and with an awkward "See you", he Flooed back to Knockturn Alley to finish his patrol.


	3. Getting to Know You

The next day, Ron returned to Hermione's home, this time approaching the front door, as to not spread ash all over her sitting room. Clara answered the door, and not speaking, let him in. Hermione and Gregory were sitting in the tiny kitchen of the tiny flat, finishing breakfast. Ron took a few minutes to observe his surroundings. While immaculate, the appliances were dated, and the floor probably hadn't been replaced in 50 years. There was slight water damaged to the ceilings. Ron sighed, knowing that as a single mother of two, Hermione probably couldn't afford much better than this.

Hermione glanced up from her scrambled eggs and said "Good morning Ron, we'll be ready to talk in a few minutes. I was thinking we could take a stroll to the park, given that it's a lovely day. Is that all right with you?"

"Sure," Ron replied. He took a glance at his children, now that the initial shock had worn off, he saw Gregory shoving what must have been half a dozen eggs into his mouth, in spite of how tall and thin he was. That made a small smile play on Ron's lips. Clara, on the other hand, was leaning against the counter, surveying the situation scrupulously, while glancing from time to time at Ron, as if trying to learn more about him just by watching his facial expressions. That was sheer Hermione, always trying to take in everything about her surroundings and her companions. The teens were obviously completely different people, and Ron couldn't wait to find out as much as possible about their personalities and their passions.

The "family" set off for a small park down the street, and sat at a picnic table, Hermione and Gregory on one side, and Clara perched on the opposite end of the bench Ron sat on. Hermione began with a history of the twins' lives. "I discovered I was pregnant in August, just two weeks after I left the Burrow. By that point I was eight weeks along. I moved in with my parents, and they were kind enough to help me out. Gregory and Clara were born on December 29th, 1998. They were nearly two months early, and Clara was so tiny, it was touch and go." She paused, the memories of those days causing her to tear up. Gregory clasped his mother's hand gently. "Sorry. Like I said, they were born on December 29th. Gregory Frederick Granger and Clara Molly Granger, after your wonderful family Ron. Near their second birthday, I got a job at Gringott's, but I do hate working with those anti-social goblins. I also work part-time brewing potions for St. Mungo's to bring in a little extra cash. It's tight, but we're doing just fine, aren't we?" She smiled a tired, gentle smile at her children. "That's what we've been up to Ron. How are things for you?"

Ron was still flabbergasted by the tale of the years he had missed out on. "Ahem," he began, clearing his throat, "I began Auror training in September of 1998, and I've been an Auror ever since. Harry's doing the same, but I guess that's obvious. He and Ginny married too, about ten years ago. They've got two kids, James and Albus, but of course Ginny wants a girl, so she's pregnant again. I just sort of travel from place to place, sorting out law-breakers, solving mysteries and the like. It's been a brilliant experience, I've been all over Europe ... France, Italy, Ireland, Russia ..." He trailed off, realizing that he hadn't had a real hardship at all, no stress like that of Hermione. He felt rather pathetic talking about his adventures, his opportunities to travel and achieve his dreams. "Anyway, I'd really, really like to have to opportunity to make up for lost time, I want to contribute to my children's lives. I want to be there for them, that is, if you'll all have me."

The three Grangers looked from one to another. "Of course we will, Ron, don't be silly," Hermione smiled.

"Yeah ... dad," Clara chimed in, grinning as the foreign word left her lips. Gregory just smiled in silence, clearly feeling happy as well.

"This is brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement at having an instant family of sorts. "I'd love to take each of you out on your own, Clara and Gregory, and really get to know you well. The sooner the better!"

"I have a Quidditch game with some friends this afternoon, but I'm free this evening," said Gregory.

"I'm free this afternoon! Can we go out then?" Clara begged, sounding almost like a small child, bubbling with hope and expectation.

"Fine, fine. What would you like to do today Clara?" Ron asked. He hadn't the foggiest what teenage girls did for fun this day and age, reminding him of just how old he was.

"Can we go shopping?" was cut off by Hermione's quick "No!"

"What's wrong with shopping?" Ron inquired. He figured that would satisfy a teenage girl no matter what year it was.

Hermione jerked her head, indicating she wanted to speak to him alone. Underneath a tree, she explained. "Clara and Greg haven't been raised with a lot of material objects, I just couldn't afford to give Greg the newest toy brooms, or Clara the most stylish robes. They've accepted our style of life, and I don't want you just sweeping in here winning them over with money. That's the wrong way to build a relationship with your kids."

"No, no" Ron retorted. "I just want to learn about their hobbies, what they like and dislike! Don't keep coming up with excuses to keep me away Hermione, you know where _that _ended you up before." As soon as that statement left his mouth, and Ron saw the look on Hermione's hurt face, he felt regret. "I shouldn't have said that, that was terrible. I'm so sorry, we shouldn't be judging each other on the past ... let's just continue on with the future." He reached out to touch her arm, to comfort her, but she recoiled.

"Fine, take them, do whatever you want with them. You'll see how hard teenagers can be. Let's see the great Ronald Weasley try his hand at fatherhood. You don't need to speak to me to see your children." She regained her composure, and returned to the table. "Clara, you may most certainly go shopping with your father this afternoon – window shopping that is." Clara rolled her eyes at her mother's ruling, but accepted the offer.

Walking down the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, Clara kept shooting nervous glances at Ron, as if she expected him to pull out a weapon, or Disapparate. "You know," he said cheerfully, "I won't bite. We can talk about whatever you want, I don't even care if you complain about your mum or your brother."

Clara smiled a little. "No, I don't want to be too mean, or bore you to death with that business. I just feel so weird having a dad in my life all of a sudden. I can, like, call you Dad right? If that makes you feel weird, I'll call you Ron, it's all good." She blushed, due to the awkwardness of her statement.

"I like the way 'Dad' sounds to me," Ron replied. And it was true. He couldn't get over his luck, two children! While he hardly knew them, he could already feel a warmth in his heart as he walked along with Clara. They approached Madam Malkin's, and Clara nearly bolted to the window, as she saw the mannequin sporting the latest fashion. And then Ron spoke the fatal words: "Well, it can't hurt to just take a peek inside ..."

That was it, there was a fashion frenzy. Clara ran inside and immediately grabbed six gowns and robes, and ran into a changing room. As she tried each on, she stepped out to ask her father's approval. "No, that one is too revealing" was the general complaint she got until Clara stepped out in a moss-green, floor-length halter gown that complimented her gold and brown eyes. There were a few boys, clearly older in the store whom Ron saw looking at her. But truly, she was a stunning beauty, with Hermione's eyes, nose and face, and Ron's paler skin, full lips and just a few freckles. He couldn't resist. "I'll buy it for you, Clara. It's gorgeous." Her eyes lit up and she melted into a full grin. "Really? Really? You don't have to! Mum told me not to buy anything, it's okay! But ... really?" And so, 98 Galleons later, Clara had a lovely gown for whatever special occasion came next.

As they left the boutique, bag swinging in Clara's hand, she exclaimed with excitement, "I feel just like that spoiled brat Chantel-Draconia Parkinson!"

The familiar surname, along with the butchered female form of _Draco_ rang in Ron's ears. "Parkinson?"

"Yeah, I guess her parents were Death Eaters ... or children of them, or whatever. Anyway, she's being raised by her mother's third cousin twice removed or something because her mother is in Azkaban and her father is dead. I guess she's receiving all of the money from the Malfoy inheritance, because she's the last one in their direct bloodline. She's really ugly though, she has like white hair but the most squished up nose ever. She's in Slytherin and I don't think anyone really likes her, since nobody really cares about whose blood is the purest anymore." She paused to catch her breath. "Phew, that's a lot. Mum told me all about the days when you guys were in school, so I know a lot about all that stuff. Plus, in History of Magic, your names come up a lot more as we approach more recent events. Everyone thinks it's really cool that my mum is in the history books, I can't wait till they find out I have a famous dad too!"

Ron was at a loss. He wasn't sure if, when in a few weeks Clara and Greg returned to Hogwarts, it was best to announce to their peers, parents of peers, and professors that he was indeed their father. Not even his best friends knew yet! That was another issue he would have to discuss with Hermione, who apparently still harboured a lot of anger towards him. Not that he could entirely blame her; he was still shocked that he had kept her whole life secret, from everyone they had ever known until now.

Clara and Ron returned to tiny flat, and Hermione approved wholeheartedly of Clara's new gown, and put up a feeble "Ron, you shouldn't have" type argument. While the twins were off doing their own things, Ron and Hermione had a cup of tea in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry for my outburst earlier, Ron. I'm just worried about the twins; I don't know how well they're going to take suddenly having a father figure in their lives. I really do apologize for keeping them from you, sincerely. I thought a thousand times about writing you, but I didn't want to explain it by letter, nor did I want to show up on your doorstep with two kids expecting Daddy right away. I'm so sorry. It was wrong of me, and I just want you to do whatever you want, be as involved as you please."

"Hermione I would have been there all along, I would have loved them from day one. I would have supported you financially, emotionally, whatever you needed, I would have gotten. I would have done midnight feedings, potty training, taught them how to ride brooms, sent them off on their first day at Hogwarts ... it really hurts to have missed all of that. Do you have pictures by chance? I want to get caught up as much as possible."

Hermione took out seven voluminous photo albums. "I used to document every movement they made when they were younger," she said with a laugh, and handed the oldest album to Ron.

Inside, was a much younger Hermione, with an enormous baby belly on her. It was nearly comical seeing her petite frame trying to stand straight up with all the weight pulling her forwards. In the photo, she was tilting her head back and laughing, a hand rubbing her stomach lovingly. Another photo showed a much thinner Hermione holding a newborn baby up to an incubator holding another, smaller newborn. The caption read "Gregory greets Clara". The pictures continued, showing two babies grinning toothlessly, sleeping together, and crawling. It was hard to believe they were twins, with Clara's sparse strands of red hair, and Gregory's curls.

As the albums continued, the pictures became more spaced out, but each birthday was documented, as was each first day of school. A few pictures in between made Ron smile, like eight-year-old Gregory zooming around someone's garden on a tiny broom, or Clara attempting to apply makeup at age four. His favourite picture though, was one taken the previous year, when the twins were about to start their third year at Hogwarts. Gregory stood in between Clara and Hermione, and someone was taking their picture. Gregory was about six inches shorter, and Hermione looked sincerely relaxed. Clara's hair was its natural colour, and she was smiling gleefully. The train gleamed behind them, and it was a beautiful photo indeed.

As Ron finished with the albums, he cleared his throat, and began to sound oddly Auror-like. "Hermione, we do have some rather official matters to discuss. Like, am I named on their birth certificates? Who in the wizarding world knows about them? What will we tell people?"

"Ron, I didn't name you on any document regarding them. Officially, they have no father. I've made plenty of new friends since I came back here, all of five years ago. They know about the twins, but nobody knows about their father, they've never asked and I've never mentioned anything. Neither one looks totally obviously like you so nobody would ever accuse you of fathering them, although I'm sure you would be anyone's first guess." Ron nodded along with all of this. "But ... telling people, like your family, and Harry, and our old friends. Do you want to?"

"Yes, of course. Harry and I are still very close, and Mum would die of joy knowing she has more grandchildren, especially named with our family in mind. I'd really like to tell everyone before school starts, which would be in what, three weeks? That doesn't leave us much time."

"No, I know. However, I really want them to know the other side of their family, and to know my best friends, or ... those who were my best friends. I just don't want to have them processing too much information, and too many people so quickly. What if I came up to the Burrow sometime in the next few days, and explained the situation, and next weekend we brought them up to meet everyone, if it's all right with them."

"That sounds like a plan to me," Ron replied. "Wow, I honestly can't believe that after all this time we are here, having this discussion ..."

_Cue Flashback_


	4. Broken Hearts

_Sixteen Years Ago ..._

It had been two months since Voldemort's defeat, and Ron, Harry and Hermione were all spending the summer together at the Burrow before Hermione returned to finish school, and Ron and Harry went on the adventures they wanted to pursue. Ron and Hermione had been an inseparable couple since the end of the Battle, to the point of nausea in some. Their relationship had progressed quickly, "making up for lost time", was what they called it. They had consummated their relationship the very night of their victory, and it had been a dream for both. They were typical young adults, and couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Over the past few weeks, however, Hermione had been feeling rather off. She'd awaken nauseous and feel bloated, a feeling that she couldn't shake. She figured she was simply coming down with a flu, and took some potions to combat the bug, to no avail. She was tired and moody. When Ron even went to caress her, she cringed away. Hermione just couldn't place what was wrong with her. She just wanted to feel better, and Ron's persistence wasn't helping.

"Can't you just leave me alone for ten minutes! Merlin, you're worse than a dog in heat!" She finally snapped after Ron snuck up behind her and started kissing her neck.

"Honestly Mione, I have no idea what's come over you, what did I do to turn you off so much? It wasn't that long ago you jumped me in the shower for Merlin's sake! I'm sorry for whatever it was ... I can't help wanting you, I can't help wanting to love you."

"I love you too Ron, but I'm just ... I just don't want to. Can you just let me get over whatever has come over me, just give me a little space." Hermione felt slightly guilty, she did sincerely love Ron, but she didn't feel sexual in the least. The idea of sex with him, right now, made her stomach roll again.

"Fine," he muttered. "You want space, take all the space in the world! I'm going out with Harry, don't wait up." He stalked from the room Hermione and Ginny shared, slamming the door. A few minutes later, Ginny came in.

"Hermione, are you all right? Seriously, you really haven't been yourself these past few weeks. I don't get it, what's bothering you? Is it something you don't want to tell Ron, 'cause you're a girl?" The girl sat on Hermione's bed, where she was curled up, and gently stroked her back. "You know you're my best friend and you can tell me anything."

"I know Ginny, and I promise I would tell you if I knew myself. I just, I feel worse and worse each day. I can hardly eat, and my mood is all over the place. It's like PMS times a million." Hermione sighed and sat up, pulling her knees to her chin. "I suppose I'll have to see a doctor soon if this doesn't let up by week's end."

Ginny suddenly sat straight up. "Hermione..." she began cautiously, a little nervous at approaching the sensitive subject. "You wouldn't be ... pregnant? I mean, that's not a possibility?"

"No, Ginny, it can't be. I've been on the potion since my mother sat me down before I started fifth year and scarred me for life with tales of girls she knew who had been sent away, or dropped out of school because of teenage pregnancies. I've been diligent in that regard, no worries." Ginny's question had already planted seeds in Hermione's mind though. It explained away so many symptoms, especially those that nobody would notice, the sore breasts, the queer food cravings when she actually was hungry ... but no, the potion was 99.6 effective. And she and Ron were eons too young to be parents.

Later that night, as Hermione lay in bed trying to sleep, she heard Ron and Harry stumble in from the pub. Soon after, she heard the rhythmic banging of a bed against a wall from Harry and Ron's room just down the hall, indicating only one activity. Ginny wasn't in bed yet, so she assumed Harry and Ginny were a little over-eager to see each other. However, at that rate they'd wake the whole house. Rather than having a furious Molly Weasley lecturing them, or worse, kicking out the guests, Hermione decided to go cast a Silencing charm over the room. As she approached, the door was open partially, and Hermione realized she would have to honestly see them in the act while casting the charm. Shuddering, she tiptoed towards the room, and held her wand "_Silenci-RON?!"_ Her whispered spell became a shriek of shock as Hermione's eyes took in the sight of her naked boyfriend thrusting against an equally naked, much darker body than hers. He leapt up immediately, and Hermione saw that it was Pavarti Patil with whom he was coupled. She felt her throat swell with tears, and her lungs weren't receiving enough air. She was dizzy, she was mystified. Hermione bolted from the room, back to her own bed.

By this point, Ginny and Harry were in her room. Hermione silently pulled out her suitcase and began methodically folding and packing. "Hermione! What happened? Why were you yelling at Ron? It's so late, you were going to wake the whole house! Why are you packing?" Harry inquired.

Hermione snapped from her stupor. "Did you see who he brought home to replace someone who couldn't be his fuck-toy every day! He was in there screwing the living daylights out of Pavarti Patil! I thought it was you two and I went to silence the room, and I walked in on it!" She began to sob uncontrollably, she just couldn't get the image of Ron, naked from behind, pumping in between Pavarti's long, tanned, gymnastically contorted legs out of her mind. _What if they've been ... doing that ... the whole time I've been turning him down?_ She asked herself in a panic, _What if he's been pretending to love her? What if the past two months have all been a lie?_ The questions swirled in Hermione's shocked brain. She knew only one thing. She could not trust Ronald Weasley with her most sacred possession – her heart. She couldn't bear to stay in the same house as him, and come morning, she would return to London and finish the summer with her parents.

Ginny stayed up with rest of the night with Hermione, attempting to offer words of support, but what does one say when her brother just cheated on her best friend, and was caught red-handed? Eventually, Hermione retreated into herself, and said nothing when Ginny tried to speak to her. As she was preparing to leave, Ron came into her room.

"Not going to send a flock of canaries after me, are you?" He chuckled, and Hermione cringed. How dare he laugh off sex with someone else, when he claimed to love her, to love her and no one else for the rest of his life? When Ron got no reaction from that, he continued on, in a Ron-like manner. "Don't you know that's what men were put here to do? To spread our seed and, um, do it a lot? Look, I was really pent-up because you were being so weird, and I went out and had a few too many pints, and well ... one thing led to another. I didn't mean to do it, and I most certainly didn't mean for you to see it. I'm sorry. I made a mistake, and I fully admit it. Please, please forgive me. What should I say to help us get past this?"

Hermione turned, and Ron saw that a light had left her eyes. "Ron, there is nothing you can say that will ever make me forget what I saw. And now ... you've left me with so many questions. Is this the first time you've done this? Do other girls out there think that they have what we have – had? I just ... I can't take this. I need to return home, to my parents. I can't stay here, seeing your face every day, having just seen what I saw."

"No, no Mione. Please don't. I love you, only you. That was just a drunken, stupid thing. You are the only girl I love; you will always be the only girl I love. Please don't go. I know we can get past this, we're Ron and Hermione, everyone knows we're meant to be."

"I don't think so Ron. I just need some time alone right now. I can't bear to look at you. I don't know if we'll ever get back together. It's all up in the air now. I'll owl you, perhaps. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself now." And with that, Hermione Disapparated, leaving Ron staring at her empty bed. He sat down, and put his head in his hands. He had really mucked it up, and had no idea what to do.

_Two weeks later ..._

"Mum, I think ... I think something's really wrong with me," Hermione stuttered, sitting across from her mother at the Granger kitchen table. "I've been sick like this for nearly a month now! It's getting worse, even my periods have stopped."

Mrs. Granger sighed, and closed her eyes, crossing her fingers under the table. "Hermione, I honestly think you should take a pregnancy test. The only symptom you have left is to grow a huge stomach and have a child kicking inside of you."

"Yes, but I've been on the potion for almost three years, and Ron and I haven't ... you know ... in nearly a month. But if you honestly want me to prove it, I'll take a test for you, and after _that_ can we please take me to a doctor?" Before Hermione had even finished her final sentence, Mrs. Granger had pulled out a pregnancy test from a brown paper bag, and handed it to her daughter.

Ten minutes later, Hermione was perched on the edge of her bathtub, staring breathlessly at the two lines indicating exactly what her predicament was. Mrs. Granger knocked gently on the door and poked her head in. One look at her daughter indicated that her mother's intuition had been spot-on. Hermione couldn't look her mother in the eye; she didn't want to see that she was now the family disappointment. She wouldn't be able to return to school, and she would join the statistics as a teenage mother. "Oh Mum," she sighed.

"Hermione, my girl, you know your father and I love you more than anything in the world. You have us to support you now. He and I both suspected this from the moment you arrived, you're going straight to the doctor tomorrow to get this all sorted. We'll talk about your options. Don't worry love, you're not alone. Neither you nor your baby." Mrs. Granger hugged her daughter tight, as Hermione cried silently.

The next day, Hermione visited her Muggle doctor, who drew some blood and performed a sonogram, to check for a heartbeat in the baby. "Miss Granger," he said, marvelling slightly. "I'm relatively certain I detect two heartbeats ... I believe you're carrying twins."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Twins?!"

"Yes, once your blood comes back from the lab, and I see how high the hormone levels are, I can confirm it, which should be tomorrow, but I've never been wrong."

Hermione left the doctor's office and stumbled home, guided by instinct, as her mind was focused on the fact that not only was she pregnant, she was having two babies. _I can't be a mother to two babies; I can't be a mother to one for Merlin's sake. I can't support even myself at the moment. What shall I do? I know Mum and Dad support me ... but they're getting older, they can't deal with this, they shouldn't have to. _

She told her parents as soon as it was confirmed. They were as shocked as she was, but refused to turn her out, and promised to stand behind her. All options were discussed, adoption ("But nobody wants to just jump in to having two babies, I don't want them to be split up"), termination ("It's doubly hard to do it to two babies ... they're in there together), and finally, being a mother. "I feel that I love them already. They're growing inside of me; they're a part of me. I don't care how hard it is, I want these children. I do." The determined look on their daughter's face convinced the Grangers that there would be no arguing with Hermione – not that they ever could.

Over the months, Hermione received a few letters from Harry and Ginny, and even one from Molly Weasley, but not a word from the one who had broken her heart. She didn't return a single owl, and she decided to simply move on with life, and start over.

On the night of December 29th, while still enjoying Christmas celebrations with her parents, Hermione awoke in the middle of the night with a terrible pain in her stomach, quickly followed by a gush of water soaking her bed. She had read the books, watched the videos, and knew in general – the babies were coming, now. Her parents rushed her to the hospital, where she was quickly anesthetised, knocked completely unconscious. When Hermione awoke, there was a large bandage covering an incision across her stomach, and she knew right away that there were no longer any babies inside of her. Her mother was sitting in a chair across from the hospital bed, sleeping.

"Mum? Mum? Where are they? Are they all right?" Hermione struggled to sit up, but the stinging pain from her Caesarean incision stopped her.

"Oh, Hermione dear," Her mother yawned. "Your babies were born, they're both alive. You had a little boy, and a little girl. Your son is in the nursery now, he was smallish, four pounds, two ounces, but everything else was all right, so the doctors decided he would be all right on his own. Your little girl however, was smaller. She only weighed three pounds, and she can't breathe on her own. They hope it's just because she's premature, but she's in intensive care at the moment. Get some more rest dear, and you can visit them this afternoon." While Hermione was so nervous, so worried, the anaesthesia had not completely worn off, and she immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Later that day, a nurse brought a wheelchair, so that Hermione could go visit her babies. She was first brought to the nursery, which was full of babies, but she could almost immediately, instinctually find her son – perhaps because he was the smallest in there, perhaps it was the intuition she had gained from suddenly becoming a mother. The nurse picked up the tiny blue bundle from the bassinet and held him out to Hermione, who cautiously took him. He was so tiny, so fragile that she was afraid of squeezing him too hard, lest he shatter. She gently pulled back the cap covering his tiny head, and saw just a few curly strands of brown hair, exactly like her own, and smiled. "Hello, little boy, do you look just like me? Who are you going to be? A big strong boy, that's for sure, if you survived this all on your own."

She was then brought to see her daughter. The neonatal intensive care unit was much smaller than the regular nursery, with more machines than babies. Her daughter was indeed much smaller than her son, and Hermione was not allowed to hold her, as she had an impossibly small intubation down her throat, as well as several monitors measuring her oxygen levels and heart rate attached to her little body. She was allowed to insert her arm through a hole in the incubator that served as her daughter's bed instead. Hermione stroked the tiny hand and felt a little pulsation of the baby's fingers, as she tried to grasp her mother's thumb. Hermione's heart leapt, knowing her littlest little one was a fighter, who would make it just fine.

Two weeks later, Hermione brought home her son, Gregory. He had managed to gain two pounds and was deemed healthy by the hospital. Clara could now breathe independently, but was still rather jaundiced and didn't quite weigh the required six and a half pounds to be released. In Hermione's opinion, having just one baby at home was all right, it would ease her into learning how to care for her children. However, even just one newborn proved difficult to handle. Hermione, who could battle evil wizards, who could cast the most difficult of spells, who had been the top student during her years at Hogwarts, could not change a diaper in the middle of the night.

And it didn't get easier with two. While her parents had offered to help, Hermione didn't want to admit defeat. She was up nearly 24 hours a day, feeding, changing, consoling. Her eyes had permanent dark circles underneath, and forming a coherent sentence was a trial. However, her parents obeyed her wishes and simply looked on with concern. Eventually, the twins learned to sleep through the night, and Hermione learned what the tone of each cry meant. They were doing just fine without a father, and it made Hermione feel triumphant, a feeling she had sorely missed in the past year.

Once the twins were toddlers, Hermione felt they were capable of living on their own, as a family of three. Her parents argued against it, but Hermione used her savings as a down payment for an apartment just outside of London. She got a job as a secretary at Gringott's, and her mother watched the twins while she worked. Money was most assuredly tight, but they were surviving, and that counted for something.

Clara displayed her first signs of magic before her brother. At the age of eight, while arguing with Hermione over homework, the glass of water on the table exploded. Clara said she felt a tingling behind her eyes. Gregory followed a few months later, when he lit a match without touching it. Hermione had always been open with them about the wizarding world, but following the twins' ability to prove that they were magical, she felt it was time to move. That was when they moved into the apartment a few villages over from Diagon Alley, where they lived ever since.

_End Flashback_


End file.
